Everlasting Dream
by amyunwinding
Summary: If I do not let this story be known, how will I know if it ever occured? Can I really trust myself, and my mind to determine what is real and what is a dream? I am Bella Swan. This is my story.


Prologue

What does one think of when the word "immortality" is spoken?

Everlasting life? The inability to age? Power? Control?

There may have been a time when I would have thought one or all of these things. Now only one word flickers across my mind, like a candle in the wind that refuses to burn out.

Vampire.

But this is not a story of fear, bloodlust, or even vampires themselves. The fact that I am a vampire at all is irrelevant to the story at hand.

And yet . . . it lingers in my mind against my will like the throbbing of heads in the midst of a hangover. I will never have a hangover. Alcohol can never consume my mind like it consumes the actions of so many stupid humans.

I still shudder at the thought that I am no longer "human". How long had it been that such simple a word no longer applied to me? I no longer have blood pulsing through my veins. Can no longer feel the sweet sensation of sunlight without being taken out by the Vulturi. I cannot even see my own blood again. My own family.

But there is Edward. There will always be Edward. Strong and beautiful and talented. Everything I fear I am not. It took me a year before I could even hammer into my brain that he was mine. That he _is_ mine. Even then he could always leave in a moment. Someone else could come along. It happens with humans all the time. Why should vampires be any different?

But as I said. This is not a story of vampires. This is a story of nefarious sensuality. It is a story in which I barely have the courage to tell. But if I do not tell it, how can I truly believe that it happened? My imagination is much too limited for me to have made something up that was so forbiddingly explicit. So sweetly erotic. Yet I still need the assurance that my life isn't a dream.

I cannot simply tell you what happened, because it would seem much too simple, and much less fantastical than I promise you it was.

This is my erotic fantasy. The one that came true.

Chapter 1

Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward. Blood. Edward. Edward. Edward. Wait. The 5th word shouldn't have been there.

It was 3:00 in the afternoon and had been at least a couple of days since I had fed. Edward had promised to go with me today into the meadow. The one where I had seen him in the sunlight for the first time.

It now seemed like a dream to me. Something conjured up from the very depths of my visualization. But this could not have been. The extent of my imagination consisted of making a smiley face out of breakfast. But then . . . I could no longer do that anyway. Unless of course I wanted to use bear and lion innards for a lovely artistic happy-face sculpture.

However, I did not have time to ponder this, because I was pulled out of my thoughts by a light knock on the door.

"Come in." I said, sitting up on the bed. I could see the doorknob on the handle turn. I could hear it moving slowly like a chair scraping across the floor on a humid day.

Some senses were simply easier to get used to than others.

My gaze shifted from the doorknob (I get easily distracted by random objects these days) and rested on a smiling Edward.

"Ready to go?" he asked me.

I mimicked his smile with the realization that he had not forgotten our plans. And without as much as a nod, I was on my feet and out the door. There was no need to wait for Edward. In less than a moment's time he was beside me.

We were running now, running to that meadow which had become so familiar to me. And I needed to be reassured for the thousandth time that it really existed.

I was not waiting long for this however, because in what felt like moments, we were there. In the clearing where things had begun so long ago.

I couldn't wait to hunt. Couldn't bear to contain the feeling of anticipation inside of me any longer. And without waiting for permission or consent, I was running again. Feeling the wind all around me, as if it were caressing me in all different directions. I almost moaned at the pure sensation of it.

That's another thing that I gave too little attention to before I was changed. The wind. It was so simple an element, yet so exotic and smooth.

My gaze shifted to the left as I heard the rustling of bushes not too far away. Deer. I could smell it.

My direction, like my gaze, shifted as I perused the helpless victim. It was almost sad, knowing that they couldn't stand a chance. Knowing that once I decided to hunt it, its fate was no longer in its own control.

But the pleasure of the hunt trumped over the sick feeling it gave me. And in less than a minute, I was on it, wrestling it to the ground with little effort. My teeth sank into its flesh and I drank deeply from the wound, as the animal's struggles became less and less frantic. And in the time that it would take for a child to drink the juice from a sippy cup, I was finished.

Straightening up, I wiped my mouth and headed back to the clearing, where Edward sat waiting for me, the colour of his eyes indicating that he had already fed. Smiling at him, I walked over to where he sat, and gracefully joined him on the grass. There seemed to be a certain twinkle in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it was the sunlight, I couldn't tell which. But he kept on looking at me and saying nothing. His eyes seemed to feed on me, a hunger building up that I wasn't accustomed to. Instantly I understood what he was thinking, and began to feel what I now knew he was feeling. Raw hunger.

It suddenly dawned on me that we were in a very isolated and very secluded area. No one would hear us, no one would see us. An excitement inside of me had begun to build up in a higher form of anticipation than when I was hunting.

The look on his face told me he knew what I was thinking. Of course he did. Who _couldn't_ read me? But we both knew what was going on. There was no way to conceal ours thoughts. Not when the feeling was this strong. And oh so lusciously mutual.

"You're gonna get it." Edward said to me with a smile. And in less time than I had to prepare myself, he was on me, his hands gently but firmly pinning mine to the soft grass above my head.

He did not kiss me, but looked at me instead.

"I have waited much too long for this. Longer even than you would care to know." And his lips came down on mine, softly at first, brushing them back and forth. It made my lips tingle in a way that was too indescribable for words. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment, feeling him on me, as gentle as a shadow. But it would not satisfy for long. And I sensed that he was thinking the same thing.

When he had finished his exquisite tortures of my lips, he finally gave me what I knew we were both after. More. He came down back onto my mouth, harder and more insistent. Much more. He parted his lips, silently demanding that I follow suit. I obliged. His tongue softly entered my mouth, and I let out an unexpected moan. He seemed to take that as encouragement because he started unbuttoning my shirt.

"I may no longer be able to take your breath away," he said to me in-between hard, intense kisses. "But I'm going to leave you more exhausted than you have ever felt in your human life."

I could feel the third button of my shirt come undone. He was clearly taking his time. To torture me, or because his mind was otherwise engaged, I was not sure.

I tried to free my arms so that I could grab his hair, his neck, something. But he was stronger than me, and would not allow it. Every time I tried to move, he would take his hands from my shirt, and pin them back to the ground. So instead, I began to focus on our drugging kiss, and the fact that he had only one button to go. Thank God for lacy red bras. Classic choice, but never a miss.

He finished unbuttoning my shirt, and moved aside the material. I had felt his hardness on me before this moment, but it was as if he had gotten much harder just from the sight of me.

"Good God." He breathed as he looked at my chest. My nipples were pressing hard against the material, rubbing against it from my heavy breathing. To breathe may not have been a necessity anymore, but it was difficult to break the habit.

"I like this" Edward told me as his fingers traced the outlines of the lace. My skin began to get goose bumps from his touch. So soft, but so evident. "But it's in my way" he added, his gaze almost seeming to darken. And with that he put his hands to the middle of my bra (It did up at the front) and slowly, oh so slowly unhooked it. He left it there like that for a moment, letting the material part slightly on its own. My breathing hitched as the fabric slowly scraped across my breasts. Then, as if he could no longer stand it, he ripped it apart from my body.

Looking at me he groaned and went back down for another feverish kiss. But this time, he did not force my hands down. They came up and twined in the hair at the back of his head, as I slowly massaged the skin there. When I began playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, his breath hitched, and he pressed harder against me. God he was so hard. His erection rubbed against my centre every time either of us moved, and I knew I had to have him. Soon.

Moving my hands from Edward's neck, I dragged them to the front of his shirt. He may have had the patience to take clothing off slowly, but I did not. And I ripped it off. Goodbye Edward's shirt, I will not miss you at all.

After a moment Edward left my lips and began kissing down my neck. I let out a small moan every time he used his teeth. He seemed to like my reaction, because he started using his teeth a lot more as he went down. In moments his mouth was a breath apart from the peak of my breast. He blew on it with his icy cold breath, making it harden almost instantly. And then, as if in no time at all, his mouth covered it. Sucking it gently, as I writhed underneath him. I tried to grasp onto the grass above my head for some kind of support. But when his teeth found me, when his teeth gently grazed the sensitive bud, there was nothing I could do. I whimpered involuntarily, and felt myself grow increasingly damp.

Edward, hearing this, groaned loudly, and he let go of my breast to kiss me once again. Not waiting for the kiss to end, I let my hands find the zipper of his pants. Since he did not object, I opened them, and pushed them down to his knees. He was only a second behind me with my own pants, and once they were off, I could finally begin to truly feel what had been pressed so bluntly against me. I never thought I'd be a girl to care about this sort of thing. About size, or hardness. But, by the feel of him…my GOD he was huge! And it dawned on me that I was going to HAVE that. All of it. Soon.

"Please" I whimpered as I shook off my jeans until they were around my ankles. But he didn't answer my plea. Instead, he began kissing his way down my body again. This time there was no hesitation at my breasts, and he continued his path south. When he reached my panties, he took a finger and gently stroked it against my throbbing clit. I bit back my thousandth moan.

When he found that I held no protest, he gingerly found the waistband of my panties, and took them off. That was when I really comprehended what we were about to do, and I felt oddly nervous. I was hesitant, and scared, like a child about to go on their first roller coaster. Ah, but it is just like me to come up with stupid similes when I'm anxious. I digress…

As if sensing my anxiety, Edward left my hips for a moment to take off his boxers. Now we were even. The same. I relaxed a bit. Unfortunately I did not have time to admire what sights I may have been able to see, because he pushed my head back to the soft grass, and lowered his head back to his previous position.

Gasping as the first flick of his tongue came across my clit; I closed my eyes and endeavored to grasp even a small amount of sanity that I may have had stored away. Fat chance.

Using his index finger (at least that's what I think it was-my head was still against the grass) he slowly entered me, and it was all I could do to keep me from screaming. I arched my back and allowed him to further intrude my most sensitive areas. His finger moved in the same rhythm as each flick of his tongue, and amidst the mindless want, I wondered if that had something to do with his musical talents. But only for a moment. Because I was almost at the edge of the cliff.

As if realizing how close I was to coming, Edward stopped touching me. Just stopped. I wanted to tell him not to, that he was so good, that everything was so good. So extraordinarily flawless. But I knew what was coming would be much, much better.

"Please" I whispered for the second time. I was thankful that Edward seemed to know exactly what I wanted every time I spoke the word, because I was practically illiterate. He looked into my eyes, the way you would imagine someone to look into your eyes if you had been in a movie. But this wasn't a movie. This was real. And there was a fine line permitting me to know the difference between fact and fiction. But at this moment I knew. Just knew. I don't even really know what it was that I was knowing. But I knew anyway. It's something you just know.

Returning his look, I told him with my eyes that I was ready, that I wanted this. And my God did I want this! And so, without any further inquiries of my consent, he was in me; penetrating both my body and mind in a way I never knew was achievable.

And this is the most difficult part to describe. The very most complex and convoluted part. Even the greatest of writes and journalists could not possibly describe such an indescribable feeling. But it was good. No, not good. I should never say "good". I could practically shoot myself for using a word that was so understated. It was…exquisite, phenomenal, unthinkable…and I was living it. Sharing it. Reveling in it. And in what seemed like moments, I was leaping over it in equally indescribable ecstasy. And Edward was joining me in it, as I screamed his name and he answered with groans of equal fervor.

The rest of the day was a dream. We were laying beside each other; thinking of nothing and of everything and anything at all. Had I truly just received the most extraordinary feeling on the planet, from the most extraordinary man in the world? Sometimes I could almost doubt myself. That is why this was written. That is why this story must be known. I need to know that this was real, that it really occurred.

Sometimes I wonder if I should even question it at all. Would I truly benefit from certainty? What if I discovered that this was all imagination, and I had conjured the story up from lonely passion, being used for nothing and no one at all? It would leave me hollow and empty, the way I was before I met Edward, if he truly isn't a dream. But perhaps I should not question anything. Deny all uncertainty and relish in my dream. This story may or may not serve a purpose, but does it really matter at all? If one single human being reads this, even if my story is false, could that not be enough to show that someone is out there willing to hear my silent torment? Surely it is debatable. Surly there must be purpose. Surely there is Edward. My own personal dream.


End file.
